


Soothing the Lightning

by Road-Less-Traveled (NyxCrawler)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Control, General kinkiness, Light Bondage, M/M, PWP, Sex, Spanking, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 22:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13200063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxCrawler/pseuds/Road-Less-Traveled
Summary: Just the stereotypical training session that goes awry in the best way possible. All involved get some stress relief and learn new ways to release some tension. There is absolutely no plot involved here. :)





	Soothing the Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, I don’t own these fellas and I am quite sure this is not what Kanigher/Infantino and Wesinger/Papp had in mind when they created Barry Allen and Oliver Queen. 
> 
> I’ve had this story on my drive for years without ever thinking of posting it as I’ve never written anything smut related, generally more willing to consume rather than produce. But I wrote this one story and let one of my friends read it. She encouraged me to post it and here it is.
> 
> Enjoy?

As Barry collapsed onto the mat, flat on his back, a cough forced its way through him. He struggled to pull in a breath and squeezed his eyes shut, letting his head fall back against the floor.

“Again,” the figure looming over him growled.

“Ollie, I just…” Barry shook his head, rolling onto all fours, not even sure where that sentence was going. He dragged his head up to look tiredly at the well-muscled man in front of him. 

“You’re not pushing yourself hard enough,” Oliver stepped back from Barry as he made his way to his feet.

"Pushing myself," he huffed, incredulously, "all I've been doing for the last three hours is getting thrown to the floor! I'm trying!"

"Figure out how to stop me then."

"You're supposed to be teaching me how to fight, not just wiping the floor with me," he griped, hands coming up to run through his hair in a nervous tick that consistently emerged when emotions ran high, leaving them there to linger on the back of his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment -which in the speed force was ten times longer- then popped them back open to stare at his friend. 

The two heroes glared at each other as silence clung to the room, bogging it down. They were in the Arrow Cave alone, Dig and Felicity heading out after realizing this was going to be an all-night ordeal. 

Both figures were stubborn, thick-headed and set in their polar opposite ways. After five years on that nightmarish island, Oliver had developed into a natural fighter. He could read his opponent in the first five seconds of a fight, carefully categorize any weaknesses and strengths and develop a fighting style specifically to defeat said opponent. He faced fights directly on with intent to end it as soon as possible using his raw power. 

Barry, however, had very little spatial sense when it came to fights. Developing from his youth, he had acknowledged early on that fighting was not his forté. Hence the reason the particle accelerator gave him speed instead of strength. He went out of his way to train with Oliver understanding that if his opponents got in a few solid hits he was toast as that case had been proven time and time again. He got that "float like a butterfly" part down well enough, it was the "stinging like a bee" he had a problem with.

So, every once in awhile, when both cities had settled down enough, the vigilante and hero would work together, building Barry's fighting skills. Honestly, today probably hadn't been the most logical day to do this, Barry reflected. He was already on edge from Captain Singh breathing down his neck, Iris was irked he cancelled movie night to finish his case backload for the formerly mentioned Captain and the Flash had his proverbial ass handed to him by Captain Cold on his way home. Len and his stupid smirk, zapping that even stupider gun around until he slipped on a patch of ice and took a direct shot to his left side. In fact, his ribs still smarted where he had gotten caught with the Cold Gun. The cold blasts annoyingly took significantly longer to heal unfortunately. He knew Cold wasn't out for blood -he never was when it came to Barry it seemed- yet it still hurt his pride when Snart laughed at his pain, offered up a terrible pun about the frigid situation, and disappeared with his loot. That was just Barry’s day and he lived in the "happy city". He could just imagine what had Oliver's panties in a bunch.

Barry gave a soft sigh, face resigned and voice pitched low, "You know, Oll, maybe it'd be best just to..."

The Arrow narrowed his eyes at Barry's obvious defeat. How could he give up? Barry, the eternal optimist, who didn't dim at anything. Barry, the kid who faced supervillains square-shouldered and head on. Barry, the man who gave hope to an entire city and saved people because it was the right thing to do. It actually pissed Oliver off to see this uncharacteristic defeatist attitude painted onto Barry, the ray of freaking sunshine. Without a word or a signal, he dove at the younger man. He wouldn't stand by while Central City's hero decided he'd been kicked around enough today as backwards as that sounded.

On instinct, Barry reached for his lightning speed, Flash powers never too far away. He twisted away and jerked backwards. Barry had learned early on that despite being faster than sound, speed didn't equate gracefulness. As he turned his body to avoid taking Oliver's shoulder to his stomach, his right heel caught on his left toes and contorted his legs into a pretzel. He flailed back, arms swinging up and back to try to counter-balance his momentum. As the world around him slowed, he had plenty of time to think, "Shit!"

He took Oliver's shoulder right to the sensitive, freshly-healed skin on his ribcage as they both went down. A yelp and curse exploded out of him at the shock of the impact, "Fuuuuuu- ooph," the air once again rushed out of his lungs as he landed half on his side, mostly covered by Oliver's bulk. 

Without even pausing for a "hey-sorry-I-crushed-you-like-a-Mac-truck, you-ok, my-much-skinnier-and-lankier-buddy?", Oliver had his wrist captured and slammed into the ground, extending his arm fully over his head, back now flat on the mat. Barry immediately raised his free arm, thrusting his elbow up into Ollie’s shoulder, trying to force him to roll off.

“A… Little…. Warning… NEXT… TIME,” Barry bit off in a grumble, his attempt to overpower Arrow’s brute force yielding exactly the results he expected.

“You’re not going to win with strength,” Oliver responded, measuredly.

The younger man had no choice but to agree with him, immediately unwinding his quivering muscles and dropping flat on the floor, “Right.”

“So, that’s it? You get pinned to the floor and give up? What are your strengths, Barry? What can you do that your opponent can’t,” he tightened the hand gripping the wrist slightly, causing Barry to cringe.

In response, he shook his head, frustratedly, “I don’t think speed is getting me unstuck here.”

“You do have other skills and talents. You don’t need to just rely on your superpowers,” Oliver stated the word “superpowers” with noticeable derision. Barry rolled his eyes, knowing how words like “metahuman” and “superpowers” made Ollie uncomfortable.

“My body is too lanky for fighting.”

“It’s called ‘reach’ and most boxers would kill for your length.”

Barry scoffed, “Right. I’m sure most boxers want to be over six foot and weigh less than a sack of potatoes.”

“Focus, Barry.”

They laid there contemplating each other for a few moments, before Oliver felt Barry’s left leg snake upward, inching up the back of his leg while his body was still completely relaxed and pliant. The leg ended up hooked around his hips, pulling the man’s slighter body upward towards Oliver’s midsection as it locked across the small of his back. The world slowed for both of them as they made direct eye contact, a question floating in Ollie’s steel gray eyes. Barry’s lips quirked.

“What are you doing?” Oliver couldn’t help but ask as he drew his eyes down to Barry’s mouth. He could feel his own muscles relaxing, responding to the released tension from the man flat on his back. His head ducked down to draw closer to those twisted lips.

“Following your instructions, Oll,” he spoke softly, voice barely carrying over the few inches between them. In the same moment, there was a downward pull on his hip hooked in Barry’s knee, the elbow returned to his shoulder joint and Barry’s right thigh pushed up in rapid succession, effectively flipped Oliver off of him and reversing their positions. Barry now sat atop the stunned Oliver, legs curled close to both his hips, left arms still extended over their heads and his body lowered close to Ollie’s to accommodate his still bent elbow that pressed into the older man’s shoulder. Barry looked up as Oliver twisted his grip on his wrist to intertwine their fingers together. He felt Ollie’s lips touch his neck gently, not quite a kiss, more of just a flutter.

“Not bad,” Oliver’s words breezed over his ear with his lips so close to the sensitive shell, “But that move will only work on certain people.”

“Worked on you,” Barry stated smoothly, lips still pulled into a half smile looking at their connected hands.

“Hmm… did it?”

Barry immediately jerked his head down to look at Oliver. He tensed, suspicious of the cryptic inquiry, “Yes?’ the lanky man responded with way more of a question in his voice than necessary. As he said it, he felt two strong legs wrap around his shoulders and pull sharply, rapidly dragging him back, yanking his hand out of its happy resting place. He let out a dignified meep as Ollie was now sitting between his legs and his arms were trapped under Oliver’s knees. Oliver kept his eyes locked on Barry’s as he leaned forward a bit, catching Barry under his knees with his arms and pulling his legs up over his shoulders.

He let out a nervous laugh, “Well, this was unexpected… I’m feeling a bit exposed here, Ollie,” he looked back and forth taking in his splayed-out position.

The older man raised his eyebrow and, for the first time all night, smiled, “Good.”

“But really, strategically, this was a poor plan.”

“I was done thinking of strategy,” Oliver responded, running his fingertips up and down Barry’s thighs, soothingly, humming softly at the firm runner’s muscle he found there. He watched Barry’s fingers twitch and legs tighten up at the feeling.

“Hmmm…” Barry noised, distractedly, “I wasn’t.” Using a burst of speed faster than the eye could track, he jerked his knees back, securing his feet near Oliver’s armpits, grabbed one of the gently tracing hands, cradled his other around the back of Ollie’s neck and yanked sharply. Rocking forward then back to build as much momentum as he could, he pushed his legs up and, very sloppily, monkey flipped Oliver, following him over. He burst out laughing in surprise and gave an excited, “YES!” as he was once again crouched over his opponent, “That was awesome!”

Oliver couldn’t help but chuckle in return at Barry’s enthusiasm, shaking his head, “You have the worst fighting face ever.”

“I know,” his patent thousand-watt smile lighting his face, “But tell me that wasn’t great!”

Assuming that was rhetoric, Oliver raised his hands to cup the sides of Barry’s neck, thumbs running over the line of his jaw, a small smile still adorning his face. After a long pause, he couldn’t help but add, “Now what, hot shot?”

Barry’s eyes had shuttered at the feel of the thumbs moving gently, his blinding smile dimming to one of contentment, “You know this is the reason I never get any training in, right?” he murmured.

Ollie huffed in amusement, “You want to keep training?” Without further hesitation, Oliver used his boots to catch the edge of the mat and pulled himself through Barry’s legs causing the younger man’s eyes to snap open at the loss of the lulling caress. He popped up behind the speedster and grabbed him around the waist, pinning his arms down.

“How do you move like that? You’re, like, twice my size!”

“Twice your size? Are you trying to give me a complex?” Oliver teased, tightening his grip as Barry wiggled and vibrated slightly. He could feel his hands going distinctly numb as the vibrations continued, similar to how one would feel after a zap of electric. Barry glanced over his shoulder, taking in the distance to the nearest wall before shoving his sneakers into the floor and pushing both of them back with the tiniest amount of speed tacked on. Oliver hit the wall solidly, puffed out a breath, but didn't relinquish his hold. Instead, after a few seconds to recover and reaffirm his grip, he ducked his head to Barry’s sensitive neck and sucked hard on the slope of the tense muscle.

“Ohhh…. fuck,” Barry dropped his head to the side, exposing more of his pale skin, “I… if…” his voice wavered, “if your intention… hmm… was to get me to… yea, right there… to fight back, you’re totally doing it wrong.”

Oliver smiled still working his neck, nibbling the red mark he left, and mumbled against the skin, “Ok, fine, I win then.”

“Damnit, Oll, hmmm… why do you have to ruin everything?” Barry complained in mock annoyance, “You know I can’t let that stand… and I was thoroughly enjoying this!” He increased his vibration’s intensity until there was no way Oliver could hold on to his own personal lightning bolt. Swiveling around still within the ring of Ollie’s now-loosened hold, Barry grabbed two handfuls of Oliver’s buzzed hair as best as he could and pulled his head back against the wall, not at all being tender about it, “Do you purposefully keep your hair short so baddies can’t pull it?”

“Do you purposefully put so much product in your’s to entangle your bad guys?” Oliver quipped back.

“Ouch. That was a low blow. You know my hair is as soft as a newborn's!” he narrowed his eyes at Oliver before biting at the neck presented in front of him. He teethed at the pulse point, roughly. Oliver was never as verbal as Barry in this, but it wasn’t necessary as his arms tightened around the slimmer man’s lower back, dragging their hips together. In Oliver’s case, actions truly spoke louder than words. Besides, Barry always made up for Ollie’s silence. He moaned loudly as their steadily hardening cocks dragged across one another, “Damnit, Ollie, this is going to be over really soon if you keep doing that.” Even as he said it, he continued to rut against the cottony fabric in front of him, now sucking on Oliver’s collarbone with a clear intent.

Oliver released a heavy sigh, hands grappling to find a handhold on Barry. Finally latching on to the front of his STAR labs t-shirt, he yanked him up, their eyes locking together. He brought his lips to Barry's, initially getting a small shock that seemed to always happen when they first connected. It wasn't a metaphoric burst of energy, but an actual zap that jumped from Barry's lip to his. He wondered vaguely if Barry even realized he released such energy as his emotions intensified. Beyond the surge, he tasted the refreshing coolness that lingered on the other man, pressed passed his lips for more of that intoxicating flavor. He licked at the younger man's tongue encouraging him. 

Barry responded with a tidal wave of movement and passion, frantically lowering his hands to latch onto his face, squeezing slightly, pressing his body firmly into Oliver's, tongue darting out to battle for dominance. Barry was just a hair taller than Oliver, which normally didn't make a difference, but as they both pressed solidly against a wall, it gave Barry a bit of extra ground. He was clearly going to use it to his advantage. Breaking the kiss to gasp in a breath, he dove back down and sucked on Oliver's lower lip. He pulled back on it and letting it slide out of his grasp; there was no hesitation before Oliver's lips were covered with his again, tongue pushing to lick at Oliver's.

Barry’s body started to buzz with excitement, literally, his hands moving, grabbing at Oliver’s biceps, forearms, stomach, pecs. All moving so fast, Ollie couldn’t register any of it. He knew from experience he had to slow Barry down, otherwise he’d work himself into a frenzy and nobody would enjoy this encounter. One of the first times they did this, their entire rendezvous was over in under three minutes, with Barry honestly not having the ability to physically slow himself down from the lightning speed thrumming through his blood. The young man had been so painfully embarrassed afterwards, he did what was in his nature, mumbled a few words of gratefulness and apology, then turned tail and ran. It had taken Ollie three weeks and a trip to Central City in person to get Barry to realize it wasn’t his fault that his powers put his system into overdrive. Meanwhile, he had also learned how to handle him.

He snatched up Barry’s wrists as they made a pass over his stomach and reversed their positions. Oliver slammed the lithe man into the wall, shoved a thigh in-between his long legs, and crooked his arms against the wall on either side of his head. Barry blinked, dazed, having been both shocked by the sudden meeting of his back to the concrete wall and being torn out of his own little speed-fuzzy world, “Um, ow?”

“You back with me?” Oliver questioned, searching the wide, amped-up, green eyes in front of him.

Barry looked puzzled for a second, head turning to look at his hands secured to the wall, “Yea, yea, sorry. I got…”

“I know. Just slow down,” he reminded, reassuringly, easing them back into the moment, rubbing circles on the thin, trapped wrists.

The speedster just nodded, eyes still glazed over as he watched the thumb on his wrist. Oliver ran his tongue along the ridge of his ear and was rewarded with a choked-off noise. Wanting more of that, Oliver moved lower and licked a particularly sensitive spot right below his ear that he knew Barry usually tried to keep hidden. The hard pull at his wrists and subtle shudder that ran through Barry this time had nothing to do with his speed and everything to do with desire. He could feel Barry grinding against the leg that was still firmly wedged into his crotch.

"Ok," Barry whispered, seemingly to himself as his eyes closed and his hands flexed, then rapidly clenching into fists, "that's good."

Ollie chuckled, "Glad..." He worked his way lower, sucking love bites down his neck while shifting the trapped wrists across one another to grip them both with one hand. He rode his now free hand up under the younger man’s loose t-shirt, gliding a gentle touch over the smooth skin. Oliver leaned back to look at Barry’s expression as he yanked the shirt up, leaving it rucked up across his biceps. With a smirk tugging at his lips, he pulled the front of the shirt over Barry’s head and hooked it behind his neck. It was a lame restraint, just a stretchy piece of cotton wrapped around his arms and shoulders, but it made a point. 

To see if Barry had gotten said point, he lowered both hands to the angular hips peeking out in front of him, pulled the lanky frame even tighter against his thigh, and let his gaze drag up and down the expanse of skin laid before him. Barry’s breath was coming in sharp gasps, seemingly enjoying this little game. The only movement he made was to lower the crossed wrist slightly behind his head and flex his muscles against the t-shirt, otherwise staying exactly where Ollie positioned him. Biting on his bottom lip, Barry ducked his head a bit and looked at Oliver through his lashes, “Ok, now what, hot shot?” he slung Ollie’s own words back at him.

The bigger man just cocked an eyebrow and raised a hand to the chest on display. He dragged his short nails down the left pec right over his nipple, leaving distinct red trails behind. He knew it didn’t hurt, that Barry just marked insanely easy with all that pale skin, but the noise that erupted from the young man was definitely pained. He watched as Barry tipped his head back and groaned, “God, I think you’re killing me.”

Oliver chuckled at the dramatic exclamation, leaning in and licking the abused skin. He started to skid his hands lower, crossing tense abs, and settling under the elastic of the cottony material, all the while working his mouth across his chest. It was a tight squeeze with his leg pressed inward and body leaning forward to suck on the exposed skin, but he made it work. His fingers dipped under the waistband, tickling the skin there.

Barry hitched a laugh at the touch on his ticklish stomach and squirmed. Oliver continued running his fingertips back and forth, drawing out his suffering, “Ollie… Ollie, I have superpowers,” his voice definitely held a wavering undertone, despite the random statement, “I...I have superpowers that I could use for evil. I could do evil things like… like… I don’t know, rob a bank or something. I could apply vaseline to the grip of your bow and you'd never even see me move! I could do all sorts of things, if you keep tickling me. I mean, I’ll have to grow a goatee, so people know I’m evil now, but I’ll do it and blame you. You’re the one who tortured me until I lost my mind. Clearly, I have a problem I need taken care of by the man in a green hood and instead, he’s tickl…”

Ollie’s hand slapped over his mouth mid-sentence and he pressed in to lean close to his face. He locked eyes with Barry. Cloudy grey met with brighten hazel, both eclipsed by blown-out pupils, “You talk too much, Barry.”

Barry answered in a garbled response, talking through the hand, hips jutting outward to make his point as to what he wanted.

Oliver shook his head and evil glint building in his eyes, “Here’s what’s going to happen. If you can keep these hands right here,” he indicated to them with his head, “and stay silent the entire time, I’ll take care of your… situation.” Barry froze, eyes widening, which was quickly followed by rapid nodding. “Not a peep, though, Barry.” The nodding continued vigorously, “Think of it as part of your training. Building… control.”

Despite the hand, Oliver clearly heard Barry mumble, “I hate you,” to which the dominant man smirked, biting the tip of tongue to stop himself from laughing. He took a step back, removing his hand, leg, and lips. Barry, on the other hand, was solidified in his spot. The muscles in his arms and neck popping out from the built-up tension. Fists clenched. Eyes tracking. He looked disheveled and undeniably sexy. 

Oliver reached out and slid his hands along his neck to sooth the tendons there. He swooped his hands lower, skimming over shoulders, chest, ribs, and stomach, following the momentum until he was down on his knees. There was a distinct bulge waiting for him there. He ran his hand up and down it firmly. If he was a betting man, given the already raspy breaths and tremors, Barry wasn't going to hold out the entire time. Looking up, he hooked his hands into the top of the sweatpants and yanked roughly enough to jerk Barry’s hips forward. The intensity of the eyes focused down at him made him pause for a moment. Arms still twisted up behind his head in his shirt and body on full display created quite the picturesque scene for Ollie to admire. Then Barry’s lips skipped upward in the faintest way and broke the trance. Oliver refocused his attention like a man on fire. He tightened his grip on the sides of the stretchy material and wrenched them down to his knees. Leaning in, he mouthed the tented boxers in front of him, catching his teeth lightly on the ridge at the tip.

Barry drew in a quick, short breath, but otherwise remained silent, a shiver streaking up his back. The older man repeated the motion over the head a few more times, but Barry had gotten his reaction in line; he just took a few deep breaths and shuffled his feet a bit, nodding to himself, pride crossing his eyes. Oh, that just encouraged Ollie on though. He wrapped his lips around the steel rod presented to him and breathed out heavily, literally warming the flesh hidden underneath.

A choked cough escaped from Barry's throat. Oliver leaned back and look up with a serious expression. He tsked lightly and raised his eyebrows. Barry bit his lip, meeting his look with a challenge. He grinned in return and went back to warming the tented boxers. By the time he finished, the front of the thin fabric was covered in saliva and pre-come and, glancing up, Barry was falling to pieces. His head was tilted back, eyes squeezed shut, gnawing on his bottom lip, elbows pulled in tight, and it looked like he was clenching his own hair.

Ollie slid his hands across the taut stomach, rubbing soothingly, before gripping the waistband. He pulled the underwear down slowly. It dragged along the length of the hardened member, pulling it downward as the pants tried to stretch around it. Once it reached the head, Barry's length bounced back upward and stood proudly along his stomach.The young man, in turn, release a "oof" as it sprang up and blinked rapidly. Grimacing at the rough treatment of his precious manhood, he glared at the vigilante.

"Sorry?" he offered, completely unrepentant.

Barry made a humming noise through closed lips, but was otherwise satisfied to tilt his head back and squeeze his eyes shut, waiting. Everything in him wanted to reach out to Oliver, to grab his hair and draw him in. But a challenge was a challenge and Barry never backed down from a contest. 

Seconds dragged on forever. Barry was sure that the time it took Oliver to lean in literally spanned across eras. He had time enough to review every choice he'd ever made in his life that lead him to this very spot, pants bunched around his knees and Oliver's mouth scant inches away from where he needed it. 

He was wrapped up in his own personal game of "This is Your Life" with his eyes still shut when he felt it. There was a tentative lick right at the spot on the underside of the head that had Barry bite down hard enough on his lip to taste blood and jolt his hips forward. He could hear Ollie chuckle under his breath, but continue his ministrations. The tongue followed the bulging vein along the underside of his cock and back up again. Just an exploratory lick, but it had Barry's knees weakening. On the next pass down, Ollie molded his mouth around the side and slicked the skin as he returned to the top, allowing the spit to build up in his mouth. He quickly shifted his hands to Barry’s hips as he felt the younger man slip down the wall a few inches; it seemed Barry’s legs were as sturdy as a newborn giraffe. Pulling back after a few more passes up and down each side, he flicked his gaze upward, waiting patiently for Barry to realize he was no longer working the hardened flesh. And frankly, for a speedster, the concept was extremely slow occurring. After possibly half a minute passed, Oliver watch an almighty breath escape from Barry and his eyes popped open. He stared straight forward in confusion waiting for him to catch up on the lack of sucking, before dropping his sight.

With Barry’s eyes locked onto his, he leaned forward and took the velvety head into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the tip, pushing a little into the slit on the top. At that moment, he didn’t have to worry about Barry breaking the rules laid down. Eyes intense and wide, jaw loose, he was truly rendered speechless. Not a sound seemed to be able to breach his lips. Oliver licked a few more light fluttery touches, pulled one hand off a hip to adjust his own erection as he closed his lips around the head and gave a quick strong suck. 

That, however, broke Barry out of his frozen state. He curled forward, off the wall, hands still snarled behind his head, despite his adorable struggles. He gave a half-grunt, half-groan hybrid. The flimsy t-shirt seemed to be doing its job though, as the scientist literally couldn’t puzzle his way out of it. The cotton was all tangled around his biceps and elbows, arms vibrating not making his task any easier; his faulty brain couldn’t grasp anything beyond the sensation of “suck”. He collapsed back against the wall, in defeat, arms shaking still above his head. The next breath released from Barry vaguely had the sound of “Fuck it” attached to the indistinct air.

Oliver decided the speedster just wasn’t made for torture. Giving in to both their needs, he sunk down onto his shaft, sucking hard on the way up. He built up enough spit to moisten the path as he ducked down a few more times, hollowing out his cheeks. Removing his own hand from his crotch, he circled his thumb and index finger around the base of the shaft and pumped it in time with his motion. Ollie went as far down as possible, swallowing on the heavy length pushing at the back of his throat. An abrupt tremor ran through his body at every point it was attached to Barry.

“Fuck!” erupted from above him, accompanying the sound of ripping stitches. A hand dropped onto the back of his head to encourage him on, deeper and faster. The moans ripped from the standing man were delicious. Barry was well passed the point of conscious thought, merely acting on primal instinct - thrust until completion. Oliver felt cruel as he latched both hands onto the skinny, rapidly shifting hips. With just enough force, Barry’s hips were locked against the wall. The popping sound of Oliver releasing his cock sounded loudly in the quiet room.

“Tellmeyou’refuckingjokingrightnow!” immediately fell from Barry’s lips, in speech too fast to be normal. Trembling vocal cords didn’t seem to help his communication any. Nor did his fruitless attempts to push his hips outward to achieve any friction.

“You broke the rule,” Oliver stated in as calm a voice as possible considering most of his own blood was pooling below his waist as well. He nodded towards the ripped shirt, half hanging off one shoulder and half in Barry’s left hand, “Both rules in fact.”

“I’mnotabovebegging,” Barry sped through, “Pleasepleasepleasefinishsuckingmycock.”

Even though Oliver was only getting every few words, he was able to translate. The exquisite foul language he was able to pull out of the normally spick-and-span hero was amazing. Besides, it also did unspeakable things to his own hard-on. He tightened his grip on the slim hips in his hands and took a deep centering breath.

"Stay," his tone was brusque, leaving no room for argument. He stood and backed away, "Just stay there." 

"Seriously," Barry exclaimed in his no-nonsense “Flash” voice. His hand dropped to the red, pulsing erection sticking out painfully, wrapping around it. Not stroking, just holding it. 

"You can do that if you want," Ollie leaned in, "And I'll watch. But then you don't get anything else,” he raised an eyebrow to make his point.

The groaned "I hate you" was tossed out incredibly casually for someone in such a predicament.

"You do want more, Barry, don’t you?" Oliver teased with a hint of amusement. 

“Yes,” burst painfully from the younger man in his normal voice again, “yes, I do.”

“Hmmm…. I'm sure you do,” Ollie agreed, “but what about your punishment?” he tossed over his shoulder as he headed to a storage shelf on the other side of the mat.

“Pun…. Punish… What now?” Barry was definitely having difficulty focusing, eyes squinting, a grimace passing over his features, and his hand just slightly squeezing his oversensitive cock. Oliver knew Barry had only been a handful of seconds away from coming and he was having trouble wrangling in any amount of coherent thought.

“Sure,” older man confirmed, more casually than the rock hard length in his pants would suggest, pulling open the doors of the cabinet, “simple concept. You break the rule, you get punished.” He rummaged inside the cabinet, pulled out a few objects, shoving a couple of smaller things in his pockets. Returning to the waiting man, he stood close, running the pads of his fingers around the sides of Barry’s waist, ignoring the licentious sound that emerged from Barry. He trailed his fingers back and down, coming to rest just on the curve of his ass, “Sooooo, do you want me to punish you?”

There are a long stretch of silence that had Barry breathing deeply and slowly, trying to right everything in the world. After an indeterminable amount of time by Flash standards, Barry smirked, “You sound like you are starring in an awful 70’s porn.”

Oliver let out one of his rarely heard bubbling laughs, a large smile graced his face, “I would need a mustache for that.” He rubbed his hands up and down Barry’s rounded bottom, “All right then, I guess I’ll just have to…”

“ImeanI’mnotsayingIDON’Twanttobe…” Barry sped through the words as a blush painted his face, spreading across his neck and chest. He lowered his head, gnawing on his lip, clearly embarrassed by the proclamation.

“Barry,” he said with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, “Look at me.” The younger man followed the instruction, wincing at his own behavior, “Bar, you can’t be embarrassed by something I OFFERED.” 

A tentative nod with a vague humming sound was returned.

“Is this something you want to do?”

“Yea, I do, I so do. It's just, I've never…”

“All right, Mr Allen, turn around, palms on the wall,” Oliver was all business again as he yanked on Barry’s bicep to get him to face the wall.

“Woah, now, like…. Ok, ok,” Barry stumbled as Ollie jostled him around and positioned his hands on the walls. “This isn’t easy with my pants around my knees, ya know,” the younger man quipped, glancing over his shoulder and meeting the dusky eyes. There was an underlying nervous excitement filling his stare.

“Eyes front, Barry.”

“Got ya,” he responded with a distinct gleefulness.

“So, what do you want me to do?” Ollie started, running his hands down Barry’s shoulders, soothing him all the way down to his flank, “I know what I want to do,” he teased at the top of his cleft with a single finger causing Barry to suck in a sharp gasp and tighten his glutes, “But what is it that you want,” he leaned in close to whisper in his ear, “that you won’t ask for.”

Barry huffed his infamous nervous laugh. If his hands weren’t frozen to the wall, he would definitely be running them through his hair, “I…” he just trailed off, leaving the entire statement open.

“Yes?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” it was so hushed it could have just been a breath on the air.

Without warning, question, or hesitation, Ollie drew his hand back and swatted Barry’s bare ass.

“Ah shit,” the lanky young man dropped his head to hang from his shoulders as, without warning, his cock jumped higher, begging for attention.

“What was that, Bar?”

There was that humming sound from Barry again. Indistinct and light. Oliver smacked his ass again, hard enough for the sound to reverb off the walls. He watched the reaction it caused in fascination; Barry’s hands curled up into clenched fists, his back bowed, pushing his ass out further, and a sound that may have been a groan ripped from his throat. 

With a smirk, he ran his hands down the offended skin, before smacking it rapidly a few times in a row. The skin started to pinken up nicely. His eyes were drawn down where Barry was shuffling his feet like he was standing on hot coals. He was making these noises that could hardly be defined. Soft little sounds just escaping from the back of his throat while he wiggled. The blonde knelt down behind Barry, who snuck a peek at him under his arm. Oliver was untying his sneaker then silently tapped his leg to have him lift it. He repeated the action with his other foot, relieving him of his Chuck T’s and socks. Ollie tickled the bottom of the closest foot teasingly, having Barry jerk away. Returning to his feet, he cozied up to the slighter man, nibbling on the blade of his shoulder. 

“Something wrong, Barry?” Oliver cooed, hand rubbing his rounded cheek soothingly.

“No, sir,” the young man blurted out. There was an awkward silence where they both mulled over the word “sir” that was accidentally tacked onto that answer. Oliver was forced to slam his eyes shut and use his left hand to control his raging dick. Apparently, outside of Barry’s obvious submissive streak, he himself seemed to have some sort of pent-up authoritarian need. Or maybe not that pent-up. That single word just about brought him to completion and that would have been a major letdown for all involved. Barry, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to melt into the ground. He was gnawing on his lower lip, his face crumpled and shaking back and forth in denial.

Ollie reached out, cupped the hero’s chin, and turned his face to the side towards him. He leaned in for a delicious soul-capturing kiss, drawing out that sucked-on lip to nibble on it himself. He parted and whispered, “Sir……” Shaking his head in disbelief, “Fuck, you’re trying to ruin me, Barry, aren't you?” A blush kicked higher on the pale skin before him, splotchy red rushing to cover his face and creep down his chest. Stepping back again, Ollie gave a handful more slaps to the other cheek, catching Barry off-guard. 

“Ahhh, shit shit shit shit…. I don’t know wha…” Barry squeaked, “Jesus, Oll.” He curled his toes tightly, gritting his teeth, “Fuc……h….der,” the brunette whispered, faintly.

“What was that?” Smack.

“H…….er,” the word was laid gently upon the air.

The sound of flesh meeting flesh danced around the room. 

“God damnit…..”

“What do you want, Bar?”

“Fucking harder,” Barry mumbled, indelicately.

Oliver’s palm contacted his ass a dozen more times, painfully rattling Barry’s bones and the flesh of his hand before he came to a screeching halt. Both panted heavily as silence settled around them. Oliver watched the skin on Barry’s behind glare bright red and begin to show welty handprints. With his healing powers, it would start to mend all too soon, but right now in this spot, at this very time, it captivated his full attention. Barry dropped from his hands to rest his forearms and head on the wall, raggedly trying to gain his breath. Sharp shoulders, slender back and deliciously long legs in all its splendor. 

Driven on instinct and pulled in by the display of vulnerability, Oliver crowded behind Barry, covering him, pushing his still-cloth-covered dick into the crevice of the presented ass. Barry hissed as the fabric scraped across the battered flesh, then squirmed to purposefully reignite the fire. Pressing back onto the hardened shaft, vibrations settling through his body.

“Quite shameless, Barry.”

“Shut up and fuck me, Oliver.”

“And bossy,” he mumbled, jokingly, as in one fluid motion, he stripped his shirt off. 

There was shuffling behind Barry, which caused him to glance over his shoulder, “What’re you up to?” Oliver raised his eyebrow and smirked. He cozied back up behind Barry, who keened at the touch of skin on skin. 

“Holy hell, you’re hot, Barry.”

“Oh…. Uh, thanks?” The confusion is his voice was comical at the random comment.

“I meant, temperature-wise, genius,” he ran his hands up and down the slim ribs in front of him, “you are, also, quite handsome, but I was talking about your sauna-like body heat.”

“It's the vibrating. Movement produces heat,” Barry stated, simply, “Also the Speed-force….”

“Yea? That the only reason you’re burning up?” The hands wrapped around to his chest, tweaking both nipples.

“Ah…” Barry dropped his head back to his folded arms, tucking his face into the crevice, voice now muffled, “Point taken. Come on, Ollie, I don’t know how much more….”

Oliver latched onto his neck and sucked hard.

“Goddamn vampire,” Barry chuckled, slightly tilting his head from his resting position to allow access. He felt the calloused hands run down his chest slowly, leaving an oddly cool trail due to his rapidly rising temperature. They continued down to his hips, sunk around and low, right where he needed them. Oliver worked his shaft for a few seconds. His hips jerked with the strokes, already on edge. The vibrating got worse. He felt the hands stop and grip, but he was too busy riding a cloud of endorphins to truly worry about them. 

When the grip tightened uncomfortably so, he let out a grunt and lazily looking down at his proud, red, now-ringed cock, “Serious control issues, dude,” the younger man hummed, staring at the red silicone band secured around the base of his dick, tighten with a simple silver bead.

“Just something to hold you off while I….” Oliver cooed in his ear as he felt a slicked digit rub teasingly around his entrance. Despite the minor discomfort from the band entrapping his dick, he pushed back against the finger forcefully.

“Slowly, Bar,” he was chided.

“Are you…. ah…. being…. hm, ironic on… purpose?”

Oliver drizzled more oil on his hand, he returned to his goal, carefully easing most of his finger into the warmth of Barry’s body, “That feel ironic to you?” He started working the muscle to loosen it, pressing in and out, smoothly at a seemingly snail pace. Barry wiggled his feet, working the last of his clothing off, before spreading his stance.

“More,” he whined. He felt two fingers enter him at his plea and increase their steady pressure, “God, not enough. I need it,” he wasn’t sure if those were words or thoughts as the world was started to blur around him. The fingers crooked suddenly, hitting against his prostate and rubbing directly on it. His entire body seized, feet cramping, shoulders tightening and an animalistic noise being dragged from him. The world crawled, the fingers slowed and the moment froze. He could hear his heartbeat doing the Lambada as his breath panted out of him. Shiiiiit. He held on to it for a split second before forcing himself back out of the Speed Force. Almost like reaching the apex of a roller coaster hill and delaying that sensation of floating before slamming back down to reality.

He dragged in a jagged breath. The fingers continued.

“I need more, Ollie… Now, now… I need….Come on, please” the disconnected words tumbled out to be met with the quiet focus behind him.

He felt three fingers press inward and the world distorting again. The rapidly shifting time stream was making him dizzy. The pleasure intensified with each warp and he knew if it wasn’t for Ollie’s little ring, he would have spurted at the first sensation. After what may have been years, the fingers left, allowing an empty, unfinished feeling. 

“Barry, focus,” the words might as well have been screamed in his ear, even though it was spoken at barely a breaths’ whisper. He jerked his head up and gasped. Electricity snapped off of him and the vibrating became merely a blur. There was movement and shifting of clothes. He felt Oliver’s hand wrap around the back of his shoulder to steady himself and the thick head of a cock at his opening.

“I need to cum,” Barry basically whimpered, “Fuck me…. Fuck me….”

“Jesus, Bar,” Oliver massaged his shoulder, “anything you want if you keep asking like that.” He pushed forward, stretching the still constricted muscle as slowly as possible to prevent any pain.

Just as Ollie could have guessed, Barry pushed his arms hard into the wall and tried to shove himself back. Predicting the move, he eased back and gripped the younger man’s hips, stilling him almost immediately, “Uh uh. I'm in charge here.”

He could basically hear Barry gritting his teeth, gave a little chuckle in response and a playful slap to his already-fading-red cheek, and eased his way into the tight channel. God, the pressure around his dick was exquisite. He eased back out, squeezed more oil at the top of Barry's crack and watched it drip down onto his shaft. Shifting forward again, he inched his way into the tense body under him. Barry groaned loudly. The initial pain starting to shift into intensity. 

“Yeeeeesssssss….” a hiss escaped from him as he deflated against the wall, spreading his feet further and slipping his arms down the wall further to increase the angle of his tilt and, of course, giving Ollie a magnificent view of his reddened ass.

“Hmm, just like that, Bar,” he slid his hand from the younger man’s shoulder to grip the back of his neck, pushing gently to keep him a bit off balance and exert just the slightest of control over him. Not enough to cause an overwhelming sense of dominance, but plenty to give Barry what he needed, “So good,” Oliver hummed, shifting his hips and moving in short thrusts.

Right at this moment, the entire Rogue Gallery could have been doing a tap dance routine behind them as the Rainbow Raider did cartwheels and Barry couldn’t have done a damn thing about it. Every part of him was wrapped in some sort of fuzziness and his senses were shifted off. The vibrating was almost more than he could bear. The only thing grounding him to any sort of reality was the sturdy hand covering his neck. As Ollie’s dick drilled into him repeatedly, Barry thought he would split at the seams. Nothing else other than getting to “that place” mattered. He couldn’t breathe. Some part of him realized his knees collapsed under him, but again, there wasn’t anything he could do to prevent it. The vibrations just continued and the chase dragged him onward.

It didn’t take much for Oliver to shift his arm from Barry’s hip to around his stomach. The solid muscle of his forearm caught Barry as the oncoming buckle of his knees approached. His fighter instinct could spot movement before the person even realized it. Thank god in this case since Barry wasn't truly aware and that impact would have wreaked havoc on his knees later. He watched the young man’s breath get caught, a pained “oof” push out of him, and he deflated, knees relenting. 

Ollie stopped thrusting, but stayed inside, dropping carefully with sudden change of momentum. The pressure on his forearm guiding them both to their knees with him controlling the descent. He kept his hand on Barry’s neck, soothingly, “Ok?” He didn't want to pull them out of the moment, but was concerned by the heavy silence, so uncharacteristic of Barry.

Barry laughed an uncertain flimsy huff, “Not ok,” he sounded intoxicated.

“Stop?” he was already pulling back to give the hero space. 

“Ifyoufuckingstop…” his voice came out in a low grumble. 

“Tsk tsk, Barry. Such language!” Knowing his friend was still awake and functioning was enough to encourage him on. Rearranging Barry properly on his knees and pushing his head down to be cushioned on his crossed arms, Ollie gripped the slim hips roughly. He flicked his eyes across the pale skin before continuing his jerking movement, now pistoning into the relaxed limp body below him with no reserve.

“Aaahhh….” the movement had Barry angling his hips up and back allowing unhindered access. Barry’s vibrations sang up through Oliver creating a feeling unlike any he’d experienced with anybody else. 

“Oll….Ollie…. Ol,” the voice leaked from muffling arms, “before….when…. before….you were. The…” Oliver could just barely make out the side of Barry’s faces over the angular shoulder blade and could see him chewing on his lower lip as he sputtered. Endearing as fuck, “the forcefulness really…. you can, you know, do more…” he tightened his fingers on Barry’s hips, the shy words cutting through him like the sharpest of blades piercing directly into his heart. What the hell had he uncovered in the young man? Whatever it was, Oliver truly enjoyed it. 

“Wanton, Barry,” he cooed. Sliding his left hand up the curved back, his fingers coiled into the soft dark hair, pulling back slightly to lift the nestled head, “This?”

For Barry, each sensation grounded him to reality. Time stopped bubbling and toiling around him. The hand created singular points of pain in his hair, the dick ceaselessly ramming into him, the sweat dripping onto his body from the exertion of the man above him each offered a lifeline to the current steady rhythm of time. The sea-sickening waves of the Speedforce couldn't pierce the aura of building tension. 

Ollie’s right hand soothed a path up his back to his shoulder, dancing across his bicep, across his forearm and ended linking his fingers through his spindly ones. The hand threaded through his hair pulled back further, forcing him to arch his back and tighten his muscles to the edge of uncomfortable. He had to engage his core muscles to accommodate the position, squeezing the intrusive member inside of him harder. Oliver huffed in pleasure at the muscles within clenching and buried himself deeper. 

The linked hands dragged backwards without warning, pulling Barry’s arm up and back to rest on his own slick back. With the constant thrumming and now tripoded on three limbs, his left elbow shaking with the effort of holding himself up, Barry was unnaturally off-balanced. Oliver had wrestled complete control over everything he was feeling, even stealing away his own sense of center. Literally, he was helpless in this situation and could only take what was offered. It was a huge relief and a blanket of calmness shuffled around him. He didn't have to do anything, nor could he if he wanted to. The responsibility was lifted off of him. 

“Just take it,” Oliver whispered, essentially reading his thoughts. He did, closing his eyes, and grunting with the inconsistent thrusts. Oliver had to be close. He could feel him losing his rhythm and timing. The jerky motions instinctual and rough. 

“Yea, oh god, yes. Feels amazing. Perfect, fuck me, yes,” the filthy words yanked out of him.

“So close,” Oliver responded through gritted teeth, pulling the hair further back, bending Barry to his limit. 

“Ah, yours, Oll. All yours.”

“Fuck yes,” he slammed forward a few more times before pulling out completely and releasing himself onto Barry’s bowed back. He jerked against the sweat-slicked skin as he came. Bringing his head down to watch, groaning his relief and spilling his hot seed onto the delicate glistening skin. He still had Barry locked up tight even as he began to relax. Barry’s right shoulder was kinked unnaturally back to defer the armbar and his head was pulled back looking at the uninteresting ceiling. However, no complaints passed his lips, just restless wiggling. “Hmmm…” Oliver hummed his joy, rutting in the puddle unhurriedly. Once he completely landed from his high, he turned his focus back to his captive. How to finish off this situation?

Releasing the taut pressure, but not letting go, he shifted his hand through downy hair, slipping around the front to grip Barry’s sternum. He pulled the younger man up and back, not relinquishing the crooked arm from his back. Straight on his knees, Barry’s cock stood at attention, proud and weeping. Although his pupils were dilated beyond belief, the sex haze forced his eyelids to sag lustfully as he glanced off his shoulder in his new position. He looked downright drunk on sex. Oliver smirked at him before pulling him further back to lean on his chest.

“Finish yourself off, Bar. I want to watch.”

“Wha…. I…wh...,” the stuttering stopped before he declared ridiculously, “But I'm right handed!” pulling at his trapped hand. 

“I know,” was the only response he received.

“Fucking supervillain,” he mumbled, left hand fluttering towards his cock. Running a thumb over the sensitized skin and idea tickled at him. First, he released the silver bead that cozied the cock ring around himself with a painful “ohh” escaping him. The blood trapped in the extremity rushed back while a fresh sensation ran through the pulsing member. It made him light-headed and he would have come right there if it wasn't for the over-sensitivity numbing him slightly. 

He blinked wildly and tried to even out the wooziness with a deep breath through his nose. As he did so, he reached back in between the sweat-soaked layers of skin and skidded his finger through the cooling cum stuck to his body. Just the lightest fingertip traced through. Tilting his head back to meet Oliver’s eyes, he popped the finger in his mouth and sucked at it, tasting the saltiness of Oliver on his tongue.

“Holy shit,” the older man watched fascinated, “what the hell have I unleashed?”

Barry quirked a half smile at him, finger lingering in his mouth. He could only tease so long though before his situation called for his complete attention. Returning his hand to his back again, he gathered as much of the liquid as he could before bringing it around to sooth down his rampant erection, spreading it up and down and using Oliver’s mess as his lubrication.

“Ohhhh…..” Oliver’s eyes were fixed on the sliding hand in awe as the breath was dragged out of him. Wanton wasn't even the word for his own personal superhero. 

The movement was awkward as it was obvious Barry wasn't left handed, but it didn't appear to slow him down much. It was a completely different feeling than when he used his dominant hand, for better or worse. 

“I can't hold off any….” Barry mumbled, holding himself back and trying to find a rhythm with his awkward hand.

“Don't. Just….” Oliver licked his neck, nibbling at his ear, “Just let go. I want to see everything.”

The slim man’s stomach clenched and he released a deep grumbled. The hand sped up, vibrating and crackling electric. It caused a tingle to run through Oliver and jumped across his spent cock. He jerked back slightly at the friction, but didn't discount the energy. It felt like magic, for lack of a better word.

Barry’s world slowed down. Each stroke a delicate butterfly wing caressing him. He tightened his grip and clenched his eyes. The precipice was so close, yet he couldn't reach it. Everything was too much. His nerves frayed and skin shivering. He could cry from the feeling of being there, but not getting close enough to fall over. He pulled tighter, almost to the point of pain. The left arm muscles unused to the franticness and cramping slightly. 

Through the stuttering time lapse, he could feel Oliver shift his hand ever so slightly from his chest in slow motion beginning a trek downward. Barry tried to help by slipping out of the Speedforce to allow the unknowing man to move. Tripping back to normal time, the traveling hand sped down his stomach, across his hip and to his rounded used ass. Without warning, two fingers pushed into his hole, diving right for his prostate and massaging it almost violently. It was just enough.

Time slowed again and he felt like he quite literally exploded into pieces. Every nerve sang out in agony. It was an all consuming fire that just traced the line between pleasure and pain. The orgasm was well won, but staggering. He couldn't move for a millenia, breath trapped in his chest and the walls of stress closing in on him. Just as quickly, in the blink of an eye, everything collapsed. Tension, walls, lungs, and every muscle in his body. He went from high strung to wet noodle before Oliver could react, Flash speed sometimes being a bitch. As semen shot from him in ribbons, he jerked once, twice, then folded in on himself. Passing out.

***

He awoke, blinking rapidly and groaning. Everything hurt even as he was laid out on the training mat with a wet hand cloth on his forehead and another running along his chest. 

“We might have overdone it,” Oliver mumbled. 

“What the hell happened?” Barry’s eyes widened. 

“I suppose messing around with superpowered nerves wasn't the best thought out plan. Has that ever happened before?”

“Yea, once. The first time I…. well, you know, after I got my powers. I blacked out for a couple minutes.”

“Jesus,” Oliver wiped a hand down his face, “I thought I broke you. A little warning next time.”

Barry laughed, stretching his rapidly tightened muscles languidly. Mid-stretch he stopped and looked serious, “Was that…. ok for you?”

It was Oliver's turn to laugh, “Seriously? If we could lock ourselves away and do that all the time….. hmmm…. oh the things I could teach you, Barry Allen.”

Barry’s eyes glittered, eyebrows jumping up, “Yea?”

“Oh yes.”

“It wasn't…. weird?”

“Asks the man who makes lightning look slow.”

Barry laughed again, “Point made. What else do you have in your bag of tricks then?”

Oliver leaned in, tracing the shell on the younger man’s ear with his tongue before whispering, “How do you feel about leather?”


End file.
